


The Keeper in the Field

by Proud Rose (The_Author)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Humor, Mental Health Issues, Rewrite, Teenage Rebellion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Author/pseuds/Proud%20Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With his father in Azkaban and the knowledge that he will soon become a Death Eater hanging over his head, Draco leaves school at the end of his fifth year. Instead of returning home, however, he goes underground in London for three days to experience this last taste of freedom before receiving the Dark Mark. - A rewrite of J.D. Salinger's <i>The Catcher in the Rye</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is who the Dark Lord is, and the First  Wizarding War, and how my parents got mixed up in all that crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. In the first place, I don't really know that much about it. My father never really talks about it and my mother only starts reminiscing about the "good ol' days" after her fourth glass of wine, and then it's all "Your father looked so handsome in his Death Eater robes" and "That was the night you were conceived." I try to  block  out as much as I can. In the second place, my father would have a hemorrhage if I told anyone about his involvement. He's quite touchy about anything like that. Not that it really matters now, what with him being in prison. Besides, I'm not going to tell you their whole goddamn biography or anything. I'll just tell you about this crazy stuff that happened to me around summer break after my fifth year, just before I joined the Death Eaters and got this  tattoo on my forearm. Merlin, did it hurt. I had no idea how much it would hurt. I used to love those fake, rub on tattoos as a kid. The ones that you'd get as prizes inside Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

Anyway, it's  all I've told Pansy about, and she's my girlfriend and all, so it's not like I'm going to go into any real details with you. She's living in Salem now, but she comes back home and visits me at this crummy place practically every weekend. Well, almost every weekend. Like, once a month at least, when she can. She's really busy. She's got this job working in a hospital as a research assistant, which is damn hilarious. Pansy can't stand the sight of blood, like at all. She'll drop  in a dead faint, just  _ bam _ and she's out. You should have heard her scream that time I was attacked by a hippogriff and blood started spurting out of my arm like a fountain. I still got the scars. You can't really see them now, but they're there. Pansy isn't really suited to working, you know what I mean? Like, if she was a dog she'd be one of those fat, little pugs. Completely useless. We talked about getting married before I came here, but she hasn't brought it up since moving to Salem. She's useless, anyway. Don't even mention her to me.   


Where I want to start telling is the day I left Hogwarts. Hogwarts is the  Wizarding school in Scotland. Even you've probably heard of it. Or maybe not, I don't know what they teach squibs like you. I don't really care to know. You've at least seen the advertisements in the Daily Prophet. They always show the same photograph of some good-looking bloke flying on the sleekest broomstick ever put to paper. Like as if all you ever did at Hogwarts was play  Quidditch all the time. Before I joined the team the broomsticks the  Slytherins flew on were these old  Cloudsweeps . Not exactly the latest model. And underneath the guy's picture, it always says: "Since 893 AD we have been molding  students into splendid, clear-thinking young wizards and witches." Bullshit. Life was crazy at Hogwarts. If you weren't getting attacked by hippogriffs then you were being murdered by giant snakes or getting blackmailed into assassinating headmasters. My first year I broke curfew and their idea of an appropriate punishment was to send me into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night. Crazy, right?   


Anyway, it was the end of term. We only had a few hours left until the horseless carriages arrived to take us to the train station. It was really early in the morning, about seven o'clock, and I was lying on the ground all the way across the other side of the lake.  The reason why I was there instead of in my bed  or the common roomwas because my father had just been arrested by the  Aurors for breaking into the Ministry of Magic and trying to kill Potter. It was so stupid, it wasn't like he went there to  specifically kill Potter. He was there for a prophecy. Potter just kind of showed up and got in the way. I was just so angry and tired at the way everyone kept looking at me. I know I wasn't popular the way Potter was popular -  _ is _ popular - but nobody messed with me either. I could say anything I wanted to whoever I wanted and no one would do anything about it because of who my father was. It was  pretty funny. But then my father was sent to Azkaban and suddenly I was the one being laughed at and bullied and it wasn't funny anymore.   


I just wanted to get away for a little bit, but it was really lonely being out there by myself. I wasn't used to being alone then. I used to never go anywhere by myself, I was always surrounded by other people- my family or my friends or Pansy.  No one ever tells you, but you have to practice at being alone. It's hard to control your thoughts and feelings when you don't have anyone there to distract you. Your thoughts start taking weird turns, into some dark place you didn't even know you had inside you, and I didn't like that so I decided to get up and visit Professor Snape instead. Introspection is for the birds. He sent me a note requesting that I come see him in his office before I left. I think he knew what would be waiting for me when I returned home.  


I ran all the way to the main gate, and then I waited a second till I got my breath. I have no wind, if you want to know the truth. I played Seeker for the  Quidditch team and those guys have to be light. The lighter you are, the faster you'll fly. So, I don't exercise. It's not that I'm lazy; everyone knows muscle weighs more than fat. I'm pretty healthy, though.

Anyway, as soon as I got my breath back I ran all the way down into the dungeons. It was cold and icy as hell even though it was suppose to be spring. Who thought it was a good idea to house students in the dungeons? It's always cold and our common room was right under the lake so it smelled musty all the time and mold grew on the walls. Also, there was that giant snake that lived right underneath us for years and years until Potter finally killed it. Its bones are probably still lying there. It's not like anyone actually cares. Filch is the caretaker, but I don't ever recall actually seeing him clean and the house elves that work there are all free, so who knows what they do with their time.  


I knocked on the door quick when I got to Professor Snape's office. I was really frozen. My ears were hurting and I could hardly move my fingers at all. Finally, old McGonagall opened the door, one hand braced on her walking stick. That gave me quite a jolt.  It's always strange to see the professors hanging out in each others' offices.I know that professors are people too and that they're allowed to have friends - even if they are Gryffindors - but it's  weird to think about.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said in that way that made it clear she didn't like me, but was trying to hide it. She was kind of a bitch. She moved out of the way to let me inside. Professor Snape was standing by his desk, packing away jars and ingredients inside a black leather medical bag. I don't know what was in those jars, but they looked kind of gross. Most of the things in Professor Snape's office were kind of gross looking. McGonagall shared a 'meaningful ' look with Professor Snape as she left, while pointedly ignoring me. I hate when people do that. It's just a way to let someone know that they  had just intruded on a very private conversation that they weren't invited to without actually saying anything. I mean, I do it all the time, but I hate when  other people do it.  
  
"Sit down," Professor Snape commanded without bothering to look up from what he was doing. I swallowed thickly and did as he said.


	2. Chapter 2

I liked Professor Snape and I think he thought I was alright. I don't know if actually cared about me, but I know he didn't outright hate me. I don't know if there was anyone out there that he _really_ cared about, but... I don't know. I mean, he didn't yell at me half as much as he did some of the other students, that had to have meant something. So, yeah, I guess he thought I was alright. He did try to help me as much as he could, even though I was too stupid to let him. Professor Snape was pretty ugly, but he somehow always managed to make his cloak billow out behind him when he walked, which I thought was really cool. I tried to copy him once, but I could never make it work. It was probably charmed.

He finished putting away his stuff and closed his bag, moving it sit it beside his desk as he took a seat across from me. I suppose he was going home for summer holidays as well, wherever that might be. It's weird to think of professors having their own houses and families and friends. When I was a first year I didn't think they were allowed to have outside lives and that they just lived at the castle all the time. Professor Snape's been dead for over a year now and sometimes I think about going to see the place where he used to live. I never actually go, but I think about it sometimes.

He was looking at me hard, calculating, like he had just asked me to list all the ingredients of a Pepper-Up Potion and was waiting to hear my answer. It made me nervous. Though, now that I think about it, maybe he was kind of nervous too. Professor Snape didn't really understand how to be comforting. I'm pretty sure he was capable of feeling emotions like empathy and kindness like any other human being, but you would never have guessed it from interacting with him. There was this one time in my second year when one of the girls started bawling in the middle of class because she had just gotten her period in front of everybody. You should have seen the way he ran out of there. Just completely ducked out. About five minutes later McGonagall entered the room and took control of the situation, looking extremely put out by the whole thing. It was pretty funny.

"Narcissa asked me to talk to you," he said finally.

"Narcissa as in my _mother_ Narcissa?" I asked. I probably sounded pretty stupid, but if I thought it was weird imagining the professors having friends, hearing one of them call my mother Narcissa was downright disturbing. Especially when that professor was Snape.

He narrowed his eyes and his lip curled at the edges. I sometimes saw that expression in class, right before he went for some poor sod's jugular. Not literally, of course, he wasn't a werewolf. That was Professor Lupin. I meant figuratively. Maybe metaphorically, or possibly allegorically. I'm never sure which one I mean. He was about to say something mean and sarcastic - Professor Snape was always saying mean things to people, it was usually pretty funny - but he swallowed it back and schooled his features in a way that I assumed he thought was 'sympathetic'. "Do you understand what is going to happen now that your father has failed the Dark Lord?" He demanded instead.

I always knew Professor Snape was a Death Eater. Nobody told me, I just sort of figured it out from the way my parents talked about him. It never really bothered me until that moment. Just hearing him casually mention the Dark Lord like that... it was frightening. I got really scared. I had always imagined that I would one day become a Death Eater like my father. To me, they were masked heroes fighting for what was right. The Muggles were pushing us out of places that had once belonged to us, turning our sacred sites like Stonehenge into tourist attractions, and the mudbl - I mean, Muggleborns - were trying to force us into becoming like them. If they had just assimilated then it wouldn't have been so bad, but no, they had to bring with them their technology and their fashions and everything else that didn't belong in our world. Other than that, I never really thought about what it meant being in service to the Dark Lord. It was grown-up stuff, like bills. But I knew that they fought, that they died on the Dark Lord's command, that they could end up in Azkaban like my father. I was just a kid.

"The Dark Lord is displeased with Lucius," Professor Snape continued on. "He has made several mistakes over the past few years and his patience has run its course. This puts you in a dangerous position. You will be expected to make up for his failures. If you do not, then he will kill you, Draco."

It was crazy, just absolutely crazy, being told that someone was going to kill me. I felt like I was going out of my mind in that moment, sitting there. Just remembering it now makes my hands shake and my stomach twist, like I could puke at any moment. For one wild second I almost ran out of there, just start running and never stop. But I've got no wind and I was too scared to run anyway. "I'm fifteen years old," I said. I thought it would protect me.

Professor Snape was starting to get impatient. "This isn't a game," he stated. "This isn't something you can cry about to your father and expect it to magically all work out. Your father is in Azkaban and when he gets out the Dark Lord will very likely have him killed. You might even have to participate in his murder. Your age matters little to him. It didn't matter how old Potter was when he tried to kill him, or Diggory or any of his other victims. You are no different. I am _trying_ to help you."

For a second there, I was relieved. I thought if anyone could protect me now that Father was in Azkaban, it would be Professor Snape. He had this aura about him that made him seem dangerous, like he could take on anything. It was probably because of his billowing cloak. But then I remembered that Professor Snape was a Death Eater too, a loyal servant of the Dark Lord. Why would he risk angering You-Know-Who by helping me? It didn't make any sense, unless it was some sort of test.

"The Dark Lord intends to give you a mission as a way to redeem your family," he continued. "I do not yet know what it is, but I will help you see it through."

That was probably what he wanted me to think, I told myself. Everything just seemed so phony then all of a sudden. Professor Snape didn't care about me or anyone else. Everyone thought he favored Slytherins, but that wasn't really true. He just hated Gryffindors more, especially Potter. Any house points he awarded us - to me - was just a way to spite Potter. He hardly ever gave them out to anyone except when Potter was there, just because he liked to piss him off. It didn't mean anything. Professor Snape barely tolerated his students, so why would he risk his own life trying to save mine? I was out of my mind right then. I just knew I couldn't trust anybody. I like to think I was wrong about Professor Snape at that moment. Everyone says that he's a hero now, but before that they were calling him a traitor and a murderer, so who knows? Maybe I did the right thing in not trusting him, or maybe I just made everything worse. I probably made everything worse. I like to think he thought I was alright, anyway.

"I'm sure that if the Dark Lord thinks I am worthy enough to handle this mission on my own then I will no doubt rise to the occasion," I said. I felt very intelligent just then, like I had just evaded a carefully laid out trap. Professor Snape looked at me like I was Longbottom. It made my stomach twist.

"Forgive me if you do not exactly inspire confidence," he replied, sarcasm dripping from each word that came out of his mouth. "But you have very few talents. You're a decent student, a mediocre Seeker, and you possess a rather common sort of cunning only on very rare occasions. None of that will be of any use to you when the Dark Lord commands you to torture and murder an innocent family to prove your loyalty. Despite what you may think, I'm not trying to trick you. I'm trying to keep you from getting killed."

Every time he said the word "kill" I could feel the bile rise in my stomach. I could have puked, I swear to God. "I have to finish packing now," I said lamely and all but ran out of his office.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life. I'm really good at it. If I'm on my way to Honeydukes to buy a Chocolate Frog, even, and somebody asks me where I'm going, I'm liable to say I'm going to the opera. It's great. So when I told Professor Snape I had to finish packing, that was a sheer lie. I already paid Goyle to do it for me. 

I started my way back to the boys' dormitory anyway. It was pretty nice being back in my own room because a fire had been lit and everyone else had gone down to the Great Hall to say their goodbyes. It felt sort of cozy. I fell on my bed and started playing with the Prefect Badge pinned to my robes, catching the light with the silver and reflecting it against the walls and stuff. Being a prefect wasn't exactly cool, but I liked the badge anyway. The badges Umbridge had given us for the Inquisitorial Squad had been these tiny little I's. They were supposed to be classy, I guess. I liked the bigger Prefect's badge. It was tacky, but I don't care. I liked it. The Death Eaters didn't have badges.

I'd only been lying there for a few minutes when I heard someone open the door. It was Vincent Crabbe. He was my friend but I wasn't too crazy about him, to tell you the truth. He was probably the only guy in the whole school, besides me, who wasn't down in the Great Hall. "Oh, you're still here," he said. He said it like he was really surprised. It was my dorm, it was where I had slept for the past year. But, then again, he was kind of an odd guy. One of those real quiet types, and I don't mean in a 'strong, silent, brooding' way that all the girls seem to fall for. More like in a 'might set fire to the school one day' kind of way. Which he did, actually. If he wasn't a Beater for the Quidditch team nobody would have ever talked to him. "The rest of us were going to share a compartment on the train. We were wondering where you were," he continued on, despite the fact that I hadn't done anything to acknowledge him. I just twisted the badge until I managed to reflect the candlelight right in Crabbe's eye.

He squinted and tried again. "The carriages will be here in a few minutes."

I finally dropped the badge and grunted out, "Alright. Let's go." I really didn't feel like leaving. I was dreading it, actually. But, then I realized, Crabbe was probably feeling the same. His dad had also been captured during the battle. Walking into the Great Hall was easier then. Maybe it was easier for him too.

Me, Crabbe, and Goyle lucked out and managed to find an empty compartment once on the train. Of course, even if there had been someone already inside we would have just tossed them out, if they didn't flee in terror first. One of the perks of being a 'scary Death Eater'. Nobody wants to be around you. We spent most of the ride in silence, none of us wanting to talk much. It was almost peaceful. Or it would have been if Blaise Zabini hadn't barged in like he owned the place. He acted like that a lot, worse than me. There was always something 'big' going on with Zabini, he was always in a hurry to get to somewhere more important. "You didn't pack that black jacket of yours, did you?" He asked, not even bothering to wait for an answer before he started digging through my bag. He was always going through my stuff, mostly because my stuff was always better than his. It was like he thought that just because he roomed with me for a couple years, that meant we were married and whatever was mine was his.

"What's it to you?" I asked.

"I want to borrow it."

"Well, too bad. It's in my trunk. Why do you want it anyway?"

"I've got a date," he replied, pulling out a shirt from my pack. It was a really nice shirt, pure silk. My mother hated the school uniforms. She thought they were too common. I usually changed into something more suitable the moment I got home. "This will do," he said before shucking off his sweater. He was always taking off his top and walking around in his bare torso because he thought he looked damn good. I mean, he did too, I have to admit. Even when wearing _my_ shirt, he looked good. That bastard.

"Who's your date?" I asked. "That Ravenclaw girl?"

"I told you, I'm done with her. It's Daphne."

I nearly dropped dead when he said that.

"Daphne Greengrass?" I asked. I'd have never thought Daphne would go for a guy like Zabini. Zabini was slick and Daphne was... well, innocent. Everyone always assumes that just because you're put in Slytherin that automatically means you're a two-faced, manipulative Death Eater, but it just isn't true. The Greengrasses were Canadian, they didn't even know anything about the Dark Lord. And Daphne... well, Daphne didn't know much about _anything_ at all really. You'd try to flirt with her and it'd just go straight over her head. She would scrunch up her nose and look up at you with those big brown eyes and ask you what you meant in that funny accent of hers, which would just send us rolling. How she ended up on a date with Zabini was anyone's guess. "Really?" 

"We're getting ice cream in Diagon Alley as soon as the train pulls in. It took nearly an hour to convince her. First, she was worried about her trunk and I kept telling her not to bother, that our house-elf Jooly will send it on to her house. Then she said she wouldn't go without her little sister so now Astoria is coming too. I figured I could slip her some galleons and ditch her in a toy store."

"Astoria is a cute kid," I said. "A couple of years ago my parents invited the Greengrasses over for a party. Me and Daphne and Astoria played chess in one of the parlors while all the adults got drunk. She didn't even try to win, she just wanted to arrange her pieces in pretty patterns. It was pretty funny to listen to the pawns yell at her. They kept pointing out openings in my defense, almost begging her to let them charge in, but she didn't care. Astoria just did her own thing." Zabini didn't say anything, just brushed out the wrinkles in my shirt as he admired his reflection in the window. He wasn't interested at all. It made me pretty angry.

"Thanks for letting me borrow this," he said as he threw open the door. "I'll make sure to owl it back to you when I get home." I knew he wouldn't.

I don't know why but I couldn't stop thinking about Zabini taking out Daphne and just dumping Astoria somewhere out of the way. It just made me so angry. I had to get up. I had to think about something else. I hate it when I can't keep my thoughts under control. I stood up quickly and left, Crabbe and Goyle trailing after as usual because they couldn't come up with a single original thought between them.

I didn't know where I was going to go. I was on a damned train. I just knew I had to leave. I was so angry and worried and I couldn't stop thinking. I should have been worried about the Dark Lord, but instead all I could focus on was the thought of Astoria hanging around some shop for hours all by herself while Zabini tried to put the moves on her sister. She was just damn kid. I was just a damn kid.

Then I saw Potter exiting the loo. I hated him so much.

I tried to hex him. I really did. Except I didn't get much farther than pulling out my wand before his little group of friends jumped on me. Dumbledore's own little private army of child soldiers. The Dark Lord wasn't the only one to recruit students. Anyway, the next thing I knew, I was on the damn floor and my body was changing. The curses stung my skin, like tiny little firecrackers going off and my clothes melted into me until I resembled a giant grey slug. With a quick glance at Crabbe and Goyle I saw they had suffered the same fate. I could hear laughter all around but it was hard to focus and then we were being lifted up onto a luggage rack.

"I must say, I'm looking forward to seeing Malfoy's mother's face when he gets off the train," one of them said.

"Goyle's mum'll be pleased, though. He's loads better looking now." Weasley. I'd recognize that voice anywhere. "Anyway, Harry, the food trolley's just stopped if you want anything..."

I don't know how long we stayed up there. It could have been hours. It might have been ten minutes. But eventually I heard the sounds of feet and a shocked gasp. Then I was growing, my body warping itself back into its right shape, and Goyle's elbow was pressing in my cheek. The luggage rack cracked from our combined weight and we crashed onto the floor. Pansy was there, wrapping her arms around my neck and cooing like a damn pigeon. "Oh, Draco! Are you alright? What happened?" She completely ignored Crabbe and Goyle.

"I'm fine," I snapped, pushing her back. It was embarrassing. The last thing I wanted was to be rescued by my girlfriend. "Potter and his goons knew they couldn't take me in a real duel, so they hit me in the back. I would have won if he wasn't such a coward."

Pansy scowled and helped me to my feet. "That Potter is a psycho! I really think there's something wrong with him. He shouldn't even be allowed in school."

"I got a few hexes of my own in, though. I had to do something, defend your honor or whatever. They were saying some awful things about you, Pansy, and I couldn't let them get away with it."

"Did you really?" She gushed, tugging lightly at her short black hair. "Did you really fight them all for me?"

"Yeah, yeah. Why have we stopped? How far is it to London?"

"We've already arrived. Your mother is looking everywhere for you. I told her I'd help."

"Don't tell her what happened, just let her know I'll be outside in a minute. I need to get my bag."

Pansy nodded and gave me a peck on the cheek before running back out to where my mother was waiting on the platform. Crabbe and Goyle made to follow me, but I just waved them off. I didn't want their company right then. The train had already emptied its students and it was very, very quiet and depressing walking through the corridors. I really was just going to grab my bag, but then all of a sudden I changed my mind. I decided that what I really wanted to do was get the hell out of there. Just leave my mother and Pansy and the Dark Lord all behind. I'd go back home eventually, of course, but what was wrong with spending a couple of days in London? I had some money. I could rent a hotel room off of Diagon Alley. I just didn't want to be there anymore. It made me feel scared and lonely, and I wasn't used to that yet.

Anyway, that's what I decided I'd do. So, I went back to our compartment, grabbed my bag and walked all the way down to the last car and got off there, as far away from where my mother was as possible. I was sort of crying, I don't know why. As soon as I got off I started running. I almost ran right into Crabbe's massive chest. "Where are you going?" He asked. I wasn't too fond of him, but he was my friend. He shouldn't have gone out the way he did. Nobody deserves to be burned alive, especially not some dumb kid who hadn't even turned eighteen yet.

I didn't answer, just yelled, "Good luck, moron!" Then I got the hell out. Some idiot had thrown Chocolate Frog wrappers all over the floor, and I damn near broke my crazy neck.


	4. Chapter 4

I've never actually been out on my own in Muggle London before. Any time we had to leave the Wizarding World, my parents made sure to walk on either side of me, practically glued to my damn hip. Their faces would be frozen in an expression of pure fear, like they thought the Muggles would rise up and attack us the moment they realized we weren't "one of them". Which is kind of funny considering that they were Death Eaters and it was usually _them_ attacking _Muggles_.

To be honest, it was a little frightening. If my parents were there I could have used magic to get to Diagon Alley, but since I was on my own I had to rely on Muggle transportation. I had no idea what to do. The Muggle side of King's Cross was an overwhelming cacophony of sounds and rushing bodies. It was like being transported to another country. I didn't understand their dress, their technology, their slang. We might as well have been speaking two different languages.

All of a sudden, this lady approached me from nowhere. Just walked right up to me and started chatting like we were old pals. She had her hair all done up and her lips looked like a bright red slash across her pale face. She was around forty or forty-five, I guess, but she was very good looking. She had great legs. My mother would die if she wore a dress like that in public, just roll over and _die_. It went all the way up to her _knees_. Of course, my mother still wears a bustle and corset. Women kill me, they really do.

Anyway, she came up to me and all of a sudden said, "Excuse me, but isn't that a Hogwarts badge?" She was looking at my robes. "Do you go to Hogwarts?"

"Yes, I do," I said.

"Oh, how lovely! Perhaps you know my son, then, Justin Finch-Fletchley? I think he said he was in Hufflepuff House."

"He's in my year."

Her son was one of Potter's fawning sycophants and another member of 'Dumbledore's Army'. He might have even been one of the ones who hexed me just a couple of hours ago. I hated him then. He was an idiot. But now? I just feel sorry for him, I really do. He was just some stupid mudblo-- _Muggleborn_. He didn't know anything about anything. He's dead now, I think. He went missing during the War. A lot of Muggleborns did. They never found a body.

"Oh, how nice!" the lady said. But not corny. She was just nice and all. "I must tell Justin we met," she said. "May I ask your name, dear?"

"Ron Weasley," I told her. I thought it was a hilarious joke.

"Do you like Hogwarts?" she asked me.

"Hogwarts? It's not too bad. It's not paradise or anything, but it's as good as most schools."

"Justin just adores it."

"I know he does," I said. Then I started talking out of my arse for a bit. "Though he could apply himself a bit more. Magic isn't all fun and games, you know. I don't know how he managed to pass any of his classes, his grades were terrible."

"Oh?" She asked me. She sounded interested as hell. "Justin's father and I sometimes worry about him. He was suppose to go to Eton. Hogwarts is just so far beyond anything we ever knew." She looked at me and sort of smiled. She had a terrifically nice smile. She really did. Most people have hardly any smile at all, or a lousy one.

"How do you mean?"

"Well... it's hard for us to understand him sometimes. The more he becomes a part of that world, the less he fits in ours. I miss sitting with him and just talking, but oh! Don't mind me." She smiled again, like she was embarrassed.

I felt kind of bad for her. She was really nice. She reminded me a bit of my mother. Not in the way she dressed or looked or talked, but in just how _concerned_ she was for her son. She loved him. Finch-Fletchley should have spent more time with her, but then again he was a real idiot. He really was. "I wouldn't worry too much," I said. "Justin is pretty popular. He's very adaptable. Did you know that?"

"No, I didn't."

I nodded. "He's a smart guy, I'm sure he could turn his grades around if he just applied himself. We all like him."

Old Mrs. Finch-Fletchley didn't say anything, but boy, you should've seen her. Her eyes were wide and she was nodding. You take somebody's mother, all they want to hear about is what a hot-shot their son is.

Then I really started chucking the old shite around. "Did he tell you about the tryouts?" I asked her. "The Quidditch tryouts?"

She shook her head. I had her in a trance. I really did.

"Well, Hufflepuff had Quidditch tryouts this year and his whole house wanted him to try out for Seeker. I mean he was the unanimous choice. He was the only one that could really handle the job," I said--boy, was I chucking it. "But this other boy--Neville Longbottom--was chosen. And the reason he was chosen, the simple and obvious reason, was because Justin wouldn't try out. Because he's so darn shy and modest and all. He refused... Boy, he's really shy. You should make him try to get over that." I looked at her. "Didn't he tell you about it?"

"No, he didn't."

I nodded. "That's Justin. He wouldn't. That's the one fault with him--he's too shy and modest. You really should get him to try to relax occasionally."

Mrs. Finch-Fletchley looked dazzled. I'm glad I made up all that stuff. Her son was a real idiot. The kind that never grows out of being an idiot. He stayed an idiot his whole life and he died because of it. But I'll bet, after all that, Mrs. Finch-Fletchley still thinks of him as this very shy, modest guy who wouldn't let his house pick him for Seeker. She might. You can't tell. Mothers aren't too sharp about that stuff.

"I should probably find out where Justin's gotten to," she said. "He said he'd only be a few minutes. Are you waiting for someone?"

"No, I promised to meet my brother in Diagon Alley. I was going to take a train, but I'm not exactly sure how any of this works. I don't know much about the Muggle world."

She smiled brightly, pleased to help me and just as nice as can be. She told me all about the Undergound and where I would need to get off and even gave me a few Muggle coins in case I needed it. She wished me goodbye and invited me to visit Finch-Fletchley during the summer. She said they had a house near the beach, and they had a tennis court and all, but I just thanked her and told her I was going to South America with my grandmother. Which was really a lie, because my grandmother is dead and won't leave the attic except maybe to scare the peacocks. But I wouldn't visit that idiot Finch-Fletchley for anything, not even if his mother asked me to.


End file.
